


Repercussions and Remuneration

by Nuinzilien



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Half-elves have long memories, Legolas likes the taste of his knee, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuinzilien/pseuds/Nuinzilien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those who drop eaves rarely hear well of themselves</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repercussions and Remuneration

**Author's Note:**

> The characters aren't mine. They're really not. Wish they were

Legolas snorted.   “Why our ellith are fascinated with them, I know not.  Men are filthy, smelly, and have hair in places no respectable being would tolerate.  They look like bears.” 

The young Sindarin Princeling smirked as the gathering of elves around him laughed.  One of them spoke up.  “How do you bear it, my Prince?” 

Legolas turned dismissing the brief flash of black in the corner of his eye.  “Bear what?” 

“Come now, Prince Legolas,” another added.  “All know you took the little Peredhel as your lover some time ago…” 

Elrohir, the “little Peredhel” in question, did not remain to hear Legolas’ snapped response.  Mind awhirl, he spun on his heel and sped to the chambers he had shared with Legolas during his stay in Mirkwood.  The heavy “clunk” of the closing door masked the sound of a fist hitting the wall. 

“Dammit,” Elrohir whispered, flexing his knuckles to check for any lasting damage.  //I knew it was too good to be true.  All good things…//  Brushing irritably at his cheek, he went in search of his saddlebags. 

~ ~ ~ 

Struck by the sudden desire to see his lover, Legolas went in search of Elrohir, finally tracking him down in the stables.  His brow furrowed when he saw the half elf preparing to mount his horse.  “Elrohir?  Has something happened in Imladris?” 

His dark-haired lover stiffened.  “No.”  

Legolas frowned in confusion.  “Then why do you leave?” 

Elrohir took a deep breath, refusing to look at him.  “Because, as much as I wish it were otherwise, I cannot help what I am.”  He mounted. 

“What?” 

He tugged on the horse’s reins, pulling her around.  The eyes staring into Legolas’ were full of anger and pain.  “Yes, I am Elf,” Elrohir replied in a cool, distant voice.  “But I have Man blood in me too…with all of the smelly hair that comes with it.”   

Clicking to his horse, the Elf Knight rode off, leaving a stunned Elf Prince staring after him. 

Legolas came to his senses.  “Elrohir, wait!”    

Too late.  He was gone. 

~ ~ ~ 

Eight months later, Elrohir still refused to speak with him.  Legolas took every opportunity possible to visit Imladris.  Yet, every time, Elrohir was either away for a dozen different reasons, or flat out refused to grant him audience. 

Having finally reached his wit’s end, Legolas went to the only one who would know best how to get around Elrohir’s anger  

“Legolas,” Elladan said, swiping the sharpening stone down the length of his blade.  “What brings you here this time?”  _Swipe._  

Taking heart in the fact that, while somewhat more distant than normal, Elladan’s voice held no actual hostility, Legolas sat down opposite his old friend, though he kept careful eye on the sword’s location.  “I’ve come to ask for your help.” 

“With?” 

_Swipe._  

“Elrohir.” 

_Swipe._  

_Swipe._  

_Swipe._ “What happened?” 

_Swipe._  

Legolas sighed.  He knew full well Elladan probably knew as much, if not more, about the situation than Legolas himself did.  He knew what his long time friend was doing.  Elrohir was his brother.  He wasn’t about to make it easy on the one who had hurt his twin. 

“I thought Elrohir would have told you.”

**_Swipe._ **

 

“He did.”  Swipe 

“And?” 

_Swipe._  

_Swiiiipe._  

_Swiiiiiiiipe._  

“Elladan –“ 

“I wish to hear **you** tell me what happened, Thranduilion.”  _Vicious swipe._  

Legolas winced.  Badgering the one who is possibly his only ally would get him nowhere.  Sighing, he relented.  “On the day he left for Imladris, I went looking for him.  I found him in the stables, readying his horse.  He seemed upset.” 

_Swipe._  

“What did he say?” 

“He said something about not being able to be anything but what he was, that he was Elf, but he was Man as well, smelly hair and – Oh, Valar!”  The light dawned.  “He heard.”

**_Flip.  Swipe!_ **

 

“Heard.  What?” 

Legolas began to curse his loose tongue.  He wasn’t looking forward to telling Elladan his thoughts on marriage between the First and Second born children of Eru.  “It was a foolish comment.  With as much time as I have spent away from home, the other warriors were –“ 

Elladan looked up from his task, eyes glittering angrily.  “What.  Did.  You.  Say?” he asked with quiet heat. 

Legolas looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.  “I might have said something about how Men are filthy, smelly, and have hair in places no respectable being would allow.”  He tried to look at his possibly former friend now, but broke under the intense scrutiny.  “I also might have mentioned that I didn’t understand why our ellith found Men attractive…” he trailed off to a mumble.  

He flinched when the whet stone smacked against the low table. 

“Aye, Thranduilion, the ‘little Peredhel’ heard it.”  Elladan studied the sharpened blade, looking for imperfections. 

Legolas frowned.  “Wait…if he heard that, then he heard my response, right?” 

Elladan blinked.  “Evidently not.” 

Legolas scowled at the memory.  “I sent the impudent bastard to the infirmary.” 

The young Peredhel cocked his head in curiosity.  “Why?” 

The Sindarin prince looked at his companion, incredulous.  “You ask me why?!  He insulted your brother, the one I love!” 

“The way I see it, he was just following the royal example.” 

“What?!” came the indignant reply.  “I never said –“ 

“- that Men were filthy, smelly, and had hair in places no respectable being would tolerate.  They look like bears.”  Elladan’s eyes came back into focus.  “I believe that was the exact quote, was it not?” 

Legolas had the good grace to look ashamed.  “Aye, it was, though I don’t understand – “ 

“Legolas, though we never chanced to meet him before his death, our father’s twin was the first King of Numenor.  The Princess Idril married Tuor and bore him Earendil.  Luthien Tinuviel **defied** her father and Mandos himself to be with Beren Erchamion.  We are Elf, yes, but we are also Man, and we can do naught about it.” 

“Yes, I know.  Elrohir said the same thing before he left.  But I still don’t understand.  We’ve joked about it often.” 

“Have you?  Both of you?” 

“Of course bo – “  Legolas cut himself off as he thought back to the many times he had made a teasing remark about the sparse hair on his lover’s chest and arms.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized Elrohir’s laughter had always been half-hearted, and his normally cheeky personality grown quiet and restrained afterwards.   “But, he never said…” 

Elladan took in the look of dawning horror on the Prince’s young face.  “Yes, and that is his mistake.  He has always been particularly sensitive on the subject.  Moreso than I.” 

“Why? 

“Well, I didn’t catch as much ribbing as he did during our training.” 

“Wait…”  Legolas looked confused.  “But, I thought you trained at home, under Lord Glorfindel?” 

Elladan nodded.  “We did.  But Glorfindel could not protect us from everything, nor would he have.  We were the two odd ones out in an army of full Elves.  We were bound to catch some teasing for it.” 

“But, you’re Lord Elrond’s sons!  If anything, self preservation should have kept their mouths shut and their respect intact.” 

“Yes, and being the Lord’s firstborn and heir saved ME from much of their mockery.  But ‘Roh….he’s the Lord’s son as well, but he doesn’t stand to inherit unless something were to happen to BOTH Father and I.  Therefore, he had no real power and took the brunt of their harassment.” 

“But surely your Father or Lord Glorfindel would have – “ 

“Would YOU have told them?” Elladan interrupted. 

Legolas opened his mouth to respond, and then thought again.  Would he have?  He knew what it was like in the patrols.  How comraderie could very well mean the difference between living and dying.  A good warrior would never intentionally ignore another’s cry for help, but they may not go out of their way for someone they don’t trust.  And you can’t trust someone who goes to your superior over a few comments.  He sighed. 

“I thought so.  And so did Elrohir.  So, he kept quiet, and he made me keep quiet.   From everything he told me, they made his life just short of a living nightmare, and I know he didn’t tell me everything.  Trippings, accidental shoves into the nearest wall when passing…The communal baths after training were the worst, and he avoided them when he could.  There were the slaps and gropes that every new recruit deals with, but they didn’t stop there.  They would dare each other to run up and “pull the bear’s chest hair” or make comments about how ‘only the race of Men would be stupid enough to need help finding their organs, though with as small as they were, it was to be expected,’ and other such nonsense.”  Elladan’s lip curled in disgust.  “And that was when I was present.  I dare not begin to think how much worse it became when I was not.” 

“But they seem to respect the two of you now.” 

“Only after we went off on our own to gain Mother’s release.” 

“At least – “ 

“It did not STOP, Legolas.  It just got much more insidious.” 

Legolas’ expression grew darker.  “How?” 

Elladan didn’t respond, carefully examining his blade. 

“How, Elladan?” Legolas pressed, growing frustrated. 

“It is not my place to tell, Legolas.  All I will say is that he had hoped – we had BOTH hoped – that you would be different.” 

The Mirkwood prince sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with a sigh.  “How do I fix this, ‘Dan?” 

The young Peredhel’s eyebrow arched in perfect imitation of his sire.  “I am not going to design your penance for you, Thranduilion.  However, were I in your position, I would figure out which part of my lover I took offense to and then prove I no longer found it so odious.” 

~ ~ ~ 

A month’s passing saw Legolas riding through the gates of Edoras.  He tossed his reins to the waiting stableboy and made for the door.  He turned back, frowned, then smiled as recognition dawned.  “Stuck mucking the stalls again, Theoden?” 

The boy wrinkled his smudged nose. 

~ ~ ~ 

Legolas smiled as his young companion completely ignored the servant woman and entered the library.  The elf-prince flashed her a charming smile, making the old woman blush like a youth.  She bowed and left the library, leaving her torch in a nearby wall sconce. 

“You should treat your servants with more respect, little prince,” Legolas chided gently.  “You will be their King one day.” 

Theoden shrugged.  “They are just servants.  If they do not perform their duties, we can always get more from the village.” 

The Eldar prince tsked.  “And what is to say they will perform any better?  Word travels quickly, and unhappy servants make for an unhappy household.  These people will be keeping your floors clean, your fires warm, and your food well prepared.  Keeping them happy is in your best interests.” 

The future king of Rohan shrugged again, wandering through the aisles. 

“You do not believe me?” Legolas said.  “Mal-treated servants will, if you are very lucky, do as they are told and nothing more.  Those treated well might go that extra distance to find the softest wool for your clothes or trade for the higher quality silks for your sheets and supping table.” 

“What is it you were looking for?” Theoden asked in an abrupt change of subject. 

Legolas laughed softly.  If his servants could refrain from poisoning him out of frustration, the spoiled little prince had the makings of a fine king.  “I need something on traditions.” 

The young prince looked over his shoulder in confusion.  “Why?” 

“Because I made a comment that upset someone I care for.  I need to know how Men go about making amends.  Your parents argue on occasion, do they not?” 

Theoden’s eyes rolled.  “Constantly.  But whenever Mother is particularly angry, Father throws her over his shoulder and they disappear into their sleeping chambers.  I suppose he thinks they both need a nap.” 

Legolas barely kept his snort to himself.  He’d be willing to wager that napping wasn’t the ONLY thing the King and his Queen did in their chambers.  As amusing as the idea of tossing Elrohir over his shoulder and carting him off for bouts of lusty sex to work out their issues was, Legolas had the feeling it would not go over well.  He’d be just as likely to find a boot-knife in his gullet as he would forgiveness. 

“I will keep that in mind as a last resort.  Any other suggestions?” 

“Not immediately, no.”  Theoden’s fingers ran along the many books in his Father’s library.  He grabbed two books, handed one to the waiting elf, and led him over to a nearby window.  Legolas sat in the window’ frame and began reading. 

His brow wrinkled in confusion “…’And God said unto Noah, The end of all flesh is come before me; for the earth is filled with violence through them; and, behold, I will destroy them with the earth.  Make thee an ark of gopher wood; rooms shalt thou make in the ark, and shalt pitch it within and without with pitch.  And this is the fashion which thou shalt make it of: The length of the ark shall be three hundred cubits, the breadth of it fifty cubits, and the height of it thirty cubits.’ – Wait…what and how long is a cubit?”   

Theoden looked up from his book with a curious grunt.  Legolas waved him off dismissively and went back to his reading.  He soon let out a snort of laughter.  “Inbreeding?!  This Noah repopulated the world through inbreeding?”  He looked up and called out to Theoden.  “What on Arda do you have me reading?” 

Theoden blinked at him.  “You wanted something on our traditions.  I thought the best place to start would be with the Olive Branch.” 

Legolas frowned.  “The what?” 

“The olive branch.  I heard my grandfather suggest extending it to his Captain after a quarrel with another soldier.  When I asked him about it, he said it was a sign of peace to offer someone the olive branch, one dating all the way back to Noah.” 

“Alright, I can accept that.  But just WHO is Noah?” 

Theoden closed his own book.  “This is not a very popular idea, but I believe the story of Noah is actually a parable for the Fall of the Numenor and Elendil’s voyage with his sons.” 

The elf prince cocked his head.  “But it says the whole world was destroyed, not just Numenor.” 

His companion shrugged.  “If you think about it, from the writer’s perspective, the whole world WAS destroyed.  Numenor itself sank not long after Beleriand went under water.  We had not spread much beyond the Ered Luin yet.  So, when the greatest race of Men was all but destroyed, and a good portion of the known world relatively just before it…it became a matter of perspective.  The jump between ‘the known world’ and ‘the whole world’ was a small one.”  Theoden grinned.  “Do not ask me what they thought happened to you elves…maybe you just float well.” 

Legolas snorted.  “I still fail to see what an olive branch has to do with it.” 

The boy frowned.  “You did not read the entire story?” 

“I did, but got a bit hung up on the idea that all of humanity is descended from one Man and his family.”  

Theoden’s look was dirty.  “You missed the point, friend.  When the dove returned with the olive branch, it meant land was near and the time of trial nearing an end.  Send your lover an olive branch.”  Here his smile grew mischievous and his eyebrow waggled.  “If she accepts, it probably means there will be kissing aplenty…” 

Legolas swatted the cheeky boy with his book.  “You are entirely too young to be waggling your eyebrow and saying that.” 

Theoden’s sigh was one of pure childish frustration.  “I am not a baby, Legolas.  I **am** eight, you know…and I have five other brothers and sisters.” 

The Mirkwood prince had a disturbing thought.  “What do you know about the begetting of children?” 

“Enough,” Theoden said in a condescending tone.  “A husband kisses his wife in bed.  And it must be specifically in bed, otherwise Mother and Father would have a thousand children by now.” 

Legolas shook his head, laughing.  So precocious was this future king of Rohan.  //So, an olive branch it is, then…but where do I find one?  Father trades for our olives…the Haradhrim from the South!//  Shuddering, and deep in thought, he placed his book on the table and left without a word, a puzzled Theoden staring after him.

~ ~ ~ 

Legolas winced as he dismounted.  Evidently, his own skills in healing were not up to Haradhrim-inflicted wounds.  He hoped that, despite the current strife between himself and his younger son, Elrond would be willing to take a look at the wound in his thigh.  Between his lack of skill and the near constant riding, it had grown infected. 

He hoped the stress between himself and Elrohir would soon be over, thanks to Theoden’s olive branch.  Knowing his horse would find the stables without his help, Legolas headed to see the healers. 

He walked into the room and stifled his groan.  //Perfect.// 

“Why are you limping?” Elrohir snapped, gray eyes narrowed. 

Legolas swallowed his initial response.  “I had a run in with a group of Haradi traders.” 

“Haradi?”  Elrohir blinked.  “What were you doing that far South?”  When the Sindarin prince didn’t answer, the young healer grunted, pulled a knife off of a nearby table, and had split the fabric of Legolas’ leggings in a few swipes. 

Legolas was very still.  Not that he didn’t trust Elrohir.  Even in his current mood, the Peredhel was a healer first, an upset lover next.  But the wound was rather high on his thigh, and one misjudged sweep of the knife could spell disaster. 

Elrohir stripped away the rough binding and hissed.  The wound was deep and improperly cared for, the edges ragged and inflamed.  “Idiot.”  He turned away and began pulling vials out of a nearby chest.  “I suppose it never occurred to you to stop in Minas Tirith or Osgiliath for help?” 

He turned to see Legolas flush and look away.  “Hn.  I thought not.”  Smearing a cool balm over the torn flesh, he placed a sachet of herbs against the wound and bound it tightly.  “After all, Men are inherently inferior and have no redeeming skills, do they?” 

Legolas’ head shot up “What?  I did not say that, Elrohir!” 

“Did you not?  No, you did not say those exact words, but why not stop in Osgiliath?  My father has trained their healers for generations, they could have easily dealt with this.”  He began pacing, running his fingers through his hair in agitation.  “You were **lucky** , Legolas!  The wound was deep, barely missing the vein.  Had you waited any longer to get treatment, the flesh would have begun to die.  Even your fully elven healing abilities would have had difficulties with that.  Instead, you ride on like a fool, just because you did not want to be sullied by a Man’s touch!”  Elrohir was shaking by then end of his tirade. 

“What?  No, that is – I didn’t mean – oh, **here**!”  With that, the Mirkwood elf slapped a bundle into the surprised Peredhel’s hand and limped off angrily. 

Elrond stepped away from his hiding place against the far wall.  “That was not very well handled, my son…”  He took the bundle from his baffled child’s hand for a closer look, and chuckled. 

“What is it,” Elrohir asked. 

“An olive tree sapling, and probably the reason he sent a message ahead asking to use one of our carrier doves.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Elrond’s smile grew wistful.  “The olive tree was my brother’s favorite.  Elros’ temper was an awesome and terrifying thing to behold when roused, much worse than mine.  Enemy and ally alike would offer him an olive sapling to beg for clemency.  Though I am surprised he went for the whole tree.  Most these days will use an olive **branch** for a peace offering.” 

“Why the change? 

“Honestly, I only heard a severely edited version, so I cannot give much detail.  However, I gather an ally had taken too friendly a liking to his lady.  Naturally, Elros took exception to it.  After several years of angry relations, the ally finally made a bid for peace…by uprooting an ancient olive tree and presenting it to him.  By this time, of course, my brother’s temper had cooled – he was always quicker to laughter than anger – He greeted his friend with open arms and suggested that, next time, he should just bring a fallen branch and leave the tree for another to admire.”  Elrond’s fingers were gentle as they ran across a fragile branch.  “Since then, it has been customary to extend and olive branch as a sign of truce.”  He placed the sapling back into Elrohir’s palm.  “It appears as though you have a decision to make, my boy.  Do you forgive him, or do you let his misspoken words and your anger ruin something special?”  Patting the younger Peredhel on the shoulder, he sauntered out of the room. 

Elrohir looked down at the tiny tree in his hand. 

~ ~ ~ 

Over the next several months, Legolas noticed a subtle change in Elrohir’s attitude.  Not necessarily a return to the loving half-elf of before, but certainly a lessening of hostility. 

“I knew Theoden’s idea was too good to be true.” 

In minutes, he was mounted on his horse and riding hard through the gates of Imladris.  //Time to do more research.// 

~ ~ ~ 

Elrond took a sip of his tea.  “So, I told Thra – Enter!” 

Everyone around the table turned to the door, where a young elleth peeked inside.  “Forgive me for interrupting your Council, my lords.  I am looking for Master Elrohir.”  She smiled when Elrohir gestured, drawing her attention.  “Excellent.  I have a delivery for you.” 

The young servant disappeared behind the door briefly.  Elrohir looked at Elladan, who shrugged.  “Maybe it is that new tack you ordered?” 

Elrohir shook his head.  “No, I received that two days ag – what?”  He blinked, startled when the servant dropped an armful of flowers on the table before him.  “What is this about?”  Elrond asked mildly, arched eyebrow flirting with his hairline. 

Erestor looked towards the door and grinned, elbowing Glorfindel in the ribs to gain his attention.  The blond warrior followed his gaze and was unable to stifle his giggle.  

The elleth waved to the door, and six other servants entered, each of them dropping another large bouquet before the startled Peredhel.  By the end of the procession, Elrohir was surrounded by fragrant roses, irises and lilies, colorful pansies and calming poppies.   

And one twin laughing hysterically. 

“Stop laughing, ‘Dan!” Elrohir grouched, kicking his brother’s chair and causing it to send his brother to the floor, which only made the elder twin laugh harder.  He glared across the table at his father’s advisors, desperately trying to hide their giggles behind teacups and long robe sleeves.  His eyes turned to his father cautiously 

Elrond’s lips were twitching.  “Well, my son?  What will your answer be?” 

Elrohir merely buried his nose, hiding his smile in the bouquet of irises. 

~ ~ ~ 

It was another two years before Legolas was able to return to Imladris. 

After a conversation with the ellith in the kitchens, he climbed the tree outside Elrohir’s balcony, pleased to note that it was the olive tree he had gifted Elrohir with almost four years before.  “Thank you, my friend,” he whispered to they young tree before leaping onto the balcony and through the open doors, swinging his pack onto a nearby chair.  He took a good look around. 

And groaned.  Elrohir was NOT counted among Arda’s best housekeepers, evidently.   //Good thing Elladan is keeping him distracted until dinnertime…I’ll need every minute.//   

He began by stripping the bed, placing the dirty linens, along with several articles of soiled traveling garments, in the hallway.  The rest of the hour before dinner was spent straightening and rearranging the pillows near the fireplace, placing candles in strategic spots around the room to give off a soft, romantic light, full of shadow and warmth.  Cool silk sheets of gleaming sapphire were placed on the bed and turned down invitingly 

He pulled a table out onto the balcony, draping it in the same shimmering fabric, silver and gold stitching gleaming in the early twilight.  Twin candles in silver holders frame the place settings.  A knock at the door brought dinner, which was placed on a nearby table to await his dinner companion. 

The evening bells tolled.  With one last, cursory glance at his preparations, Legolas sat down to wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

Nearly an hour and a half had passed since dinner had begun, and Elladan had still not seen fit to send Elrohir to his room.  Legolas picked at his cuff in agitation.  //The food has already gone cold, and the wine long since warmed.//  He scowled.  //Bloody Elladan.  Making this as difficult as possible…// 

He stalked out of the room.  It was time to re-consider Theoden’s suggestion. 

~ ~ ~ 

Elrohir squeaked in surprise as he found himself plucked from his strategy game and thrown over a slender shoulder.   

“Pray excuse me for interrupting your game, Lord Glorfindel.  However, Elrohir and I are required elsewhere this evening.” 

Jarred from his shocked silence, Elrohir started struggling.  “Legolas?!  Put me dow – oof!”  The wind was knocked from him as he was bounced against the Mirkwood elf’s shoulder.  “Dammit, Legolas!  Put.  Me.  Down!” he demanded, emphasizing each word with a punch to the thigh. 

Legolas winced and reached up, noisily slapping a conveniently placed buttock.  “Quiet, you!” 

Elrohir seethed, eyes promising swift, vicious retribution should anyone ever mention his humiliation.  He focused on his brother, who was struggling valiantly to suppress his laughter.  //Oh, you will pay for this, ‘Dan.  Make no mistake.  I will tell Arwen who slipped Haldir that aphrodisiac.  Just watch me!//  Which, of course, he wouldn’t.  Haldir and Arwen were quite happy these days, and it would pain her to know their grandfather’s Marchwarden did not come to her of his own volition. 

The moment they turned the corner, Elrohir’s struggles began anew.  “If you do not let me down, I swear I will – ow!  Dammit, Legolas, that hurt!” 

Another swat to his buttock.  “Stop struggling, we are almost there.”  Legolas fumbled with the door, jiggled his burden once more for good measure, and entered the room, pulling the door closed behind him.  He put Elrohir back on his feet and neatly dodged the punch aimed at him, pinning the Half-elf’s back against him tightly.  He licked the blunted curve of the Half-elf’s ear tip.  “It has been a long time, lover,” he whispered, delighting in his partner’s shiver.  “I thought you would be happy to see me.”  With a soft chuckle, he moved off to check on their cold food. 

“Happy to see you?!  You pull me away when I was **winning** against Glorfindel for once, throw me over your shoulder like a sack of grain, humiliate me in front of **everyone** ….how can you think I would be…happy to…” He trailed off as he looked around, taking in the changes to his chambers. 

Legolas returned to him, offering a glass of newly chilled wine.  Elrohir took it absently.  “What is this all about, Legolas?” 

The blonde-haired elf sighed.  “This…everything these past three and a half years has been about me trying to say that I am sorry, Elrohir.  Many of the warriors under my command served under my grandfather, and Oropher’s dislike of Men is well documented.  When I said that…it was stupid, love, and I meant not a word of it.  I was furious when Nornion implied that I “tolerated” you.”  He looked away.  “I broke his jaw, actually.” 

“You broke his jaw?” Elrohir repeated. 

“Well, dislocated it, anyway, but he wailed as though I had shattered it.”  Legolas took the glass from his lover and placed it on a table.  He returned, sliding his hands up Elrohir’s arms to squeeze his shoulder.  “Please, Elrohir, I know you are angry with me, and you have every right to be, but if you could just-“ 

The finger against his lips silenced him.  The lips against his own shocked him.  “Stop, Legolas.  We have both suffered.  It is enough.” 

Legolas nearly wept at the relief pouring through him.  His fingers reached up to stroke soft cheeks.  “I was so afraid I had done something unforgivable.  You **do** forgive me, don’t you?” 

Elrohir sighed in exasperation.  “Of course I forgive you, you stubborn Wood-Elf!  I forgave you when you sent me those flowers.  Which, I might add, I **still** have not heard the end of.  They were delivered while I was in council with my father, Elladan, Erestor, and Glorfindel.” 

Legolas flushed.  “Ai, forgive me.  I told her to deliver them to you directly.  I did not think she would take me so literally.” 

The Peredhel chuckled.  “With so many flowers spread before me, how could I **not** forgive you?  Now, if you will kindly drop the subject, I would much rather get back to what we were doing before.” 

The Mirkwood elf laughed and drew his lover into a tight hug, burying his nose in the fragrant curve of his neck.  It felt so **good** to have Elrohir in his arms again…  “I have missed you, my Elrohir.  So much.” 

Elrohir smiled, nuzzling the upturned ear.  “I have missed you too, beloved.”  A demon of mischief inside him took hold, making him nip the delicate tip.  Legolas gasped and lifted his head, blinking at him.  “Oh.   Well, the duck is probably disgustingly cold by now, but I ordered dinner for us.” 

“We can beg something from the kitchens later.  Right now, what I want is here in my arms.” 

“Are you certain?” 

The Half-elf sighed.  “Legolas, what do I– “ 

Legolas shook his head.  “Nay, I do not doubt your forgiveness.  I meant, are you certain you do not want to eat first?” 

“Yes!”   Elrohir shook his head.  “Do I have to strip and dance for you to realize that I **want** you?” 

Legolas smiled.  “As pleasant as that sounds, I will take you up on that another time.  For now, having you naked and writhing will suffice.”  At his lover’s intrigued look, Legolas pulled him close, kissed him and lead him backwards to the bed, pulling clothing off as they went.  Elrohir’s legs hit the back of the bed, throwing him off balance. 

A small push sent him bouncing onto the bed with a startled yip.  Legolas grinned down at him, taking in the much beloved - and much missed – sight.  He leaned down, brushing his palms over the sparse hairs dusting Elrohir’s chest, smiling at the ticklish sensation.   

Elrohir looked away.  “Forgive me.  Had I know you were planning this, I would have had it removed.” 

“No!”  Legolas sat on the bed, resting his hand on the Half-elf’s stomach.  “Elrohir, I love your body as it is.  I love exploring all of its different textures, and this is just one more…that I happen to be fond of.”  Legolas curled up on the bed, pulled his lover close, and sighed in contentment.  “Ai, ‘Ro…I have missed having you like this.”  He stroked the long back comfortingly. 

With a purring Peredhel in his arms, it did not take long for the strokes to become something **other** than just comforting.  Elrohir squirmed when Legolas’ fingers began tracing random designs at the base of his spine, occasionally dipping between his buttocks. 

The blond prince smiled and rolled his dark-haired lover beneath him, kissing him soundly.  Elrohir groaned and purred, his fingers moving up to play along the curve of sensitive pointed ears.  He chuckled at the soft growl his wood-elf let out, then sighed in delight when lips moved away from his and up to his ear.  He felt the delicate tip slip between soft lips.  “Ah!”  He shuddered and arched his neck at the firm suction.  “Legolas!” 

The mischievous demon on his ear moved down his neck with broad licks and teasing nips.  One firm bite to the joint between neck and shoulder sent him bucking and gasping.  A wet tongue stroked over the indentations in his skin, drawing a hiss from him.  The lips glided across his shoulder and down to his chest.  He tensed when Legolas pulled away. 

The Sindarin looked down at his lover, noting the shadowy doubt slipping in and out of storm gray eyes.  He sighed at this last bit of proof that he had so hurt the one he loved.  He lowered his head. 

Elrohir blinked.  Legolas was rubbing his cheek across the sparse hair on his chest, looking like a large, sleek cat.  He felt a near overwhelming urge to scratch the elf behind his ear.  He giggled, lightheaded.  “What are you doing?” 

Legolas grinned at the sound of his lover’s laughter.  “What does it look like, ‘Ro?  I am exploring your textures.  And I like this one.  Soft, yet rough against my skin.”  He rubbed his cheek across the crinkly hairs once more before moving on, pressing kisses down the flat planes of his stomach and pausing to debauch a small navel.  Elrohir’s indrawn breath hissed between clenched teeth. 

The Mirkwood prince nuzzled the small indentation a last time before drawing back.  “And this,” he said, drawing his finger down the delicate whorls of hair forming a line from navel to groin.  “This I think I love most of all.”  His touch lightened, grin turning positively wicked as gooseflesh spread across the firm stomach.  “Mayhap it is my father’s influence that I should like to follow treasure trails, but I think this one has always been my favorite.  I love traveling it again.” _Lick._   “And again.”  _Lick._   “And again.”  His tongue slithered down the narrow path, sending the Half-elf’s hips off the bed. 

Legolas propped his head on Elrohir’s thigh, breathing warm, moist air against the proud shaft before him.  He nuzzled the hard length, ignoring the growl from above. 

“Curse you, Legolas Thranduilion, if you do not – aaah!”  Elrohir bucked hard in to the wet heat surrounding him.  Strong hands held his hips to the bed as the hot mouth pulled him in, clever tongue flicking up his length and rubbing just below the head, the one spot guaranteed to make him howl. 

And howl he did, the sound echoing through his rooms and into the night, followed by curses and pleas.  In the garden, Lindir looked up from where he lay snuggled in the joint embrace of Erestor and Melpomaen, who blinked owlishly at his lovers.  “What was that all about?” 

Erestor snorted delicately.  “You two were busy elsewhere and did not see the spectacle made when Legolas of Mirkwood tossed our Elrohir over his shoulder and carted him off, smacking his backside when he struggled.”  Melpomaen started chuckling, his eyes gleaming with mischief.  “Do not even consider it,” Erestor warned.  “You may be taller, insolent whelp, but I have four millennia over you.  Your backside will meet the floor before your hand meets mine.” 

The young secretary sighed dramatically.  “Alright, beloved, as you will.” 

“I always miss the entertainment,” Lindir grumbled between them. 

“I did not hear any complaining at the time,” Mel groused.  “In fact, you seemed quite entertained to me.” 

“Enough!” Erestor commanded gruffly, pulling them both close again.  “Let us just enjoy the evening, yes?” 

~ ~ ~ 

Elrohir was afloat on sensation, feeling his release being slowly pulled from him by strong suction.  “Ai, Legolas!”  The fingers he had woven in cornsilk hair tightened in warning.  He was…he was… 

“Nooooo!” came his plaintive cry as the heavenly mouth pulled away.  He looked up wild-eyed as Legolas moved to straddle him.  “Wait…Legolas!  No, you have no – oooooh”  He shuddered as his length was smoothly taken into a silken vise.  “You…” 

“Prepared myself while I waited for you to arrive,” Legolas finished for him, sliding down completely before lifting himself and doing it again. 

Elrohir shuddered, hot lust roaring through him at the image accompanying that statement.  He rolled his hips to meet the down stroke, moaning and grasping slender, gyrating hips. 

Legolas gasped and set a frantic pace.  He had planned such a slow seduction, but hadn’t counted on his Half-elf’s pleasure firing his own.  For so long he had missed having Elrohir in his arms, in his bed.  Three years.  Three long years that seemed like centuries…Later.  Later there would be a slow loving…much later.  For now, he could hear the soft keen that heralded his love’s impending release.  Gritting his teeth, he met the snapping hips with thrusts of his own, spikes of pleasure shooting into his spine. 

Elrohir could feel himself balanced on the edge, so close to tumbling over.  //Not without him…//  He reached one hand out and wrapped it around the blond’s shaft and angled his strokes to brush against that pleasure spot he knew would send Legolas over the edge. 

“Ahhh!”  Legolas arched, stars exploding behind his eyes. 

//Yes!//  Elrohir’s own cry was guttural, the pulsing warmth surrounding his elf-hood pulling his release from him. 

The Mirkwood prince collapsed onto the bed bonelessly, small shocks of pleasure still making him gasp and twitch.  Fighting for breath himself, Elrohir disengaged himself and turned on his side, pulling the shuddering blonde close. 

Legolas buried his face in the warm neck offered him, waiting for his thoughts to catch up with the rest of him.  He kissed the trembling shoulder gently.  “I love you, my Elrohir.” 

~ ~ ~ 

Glorfindel sighed and knocked over his Lord, ceding the strategy game to his opponent. He’d been on the verge of winning quite handily.  He had worked the younger twin’s strategy out and had been ready to spring his trap when Elrohir was carted off.  Elrond had taken over and destroyed all of his carefully laid plans in less than five moves.  Bloody Peredhel tactics… 

“So,” he began casually, “How long do you expect before you receive a bonding request from young Legolas?” 

Elrond cocked his head and smiled as a roar echoed through the Hall. “Not long, I would imagine.  Not long at all.”   
   
   
 

* * * the end * * *


End file.
